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It had been a busy evening in the coffee shop and so it was with a sigh of relief that Demyx locked the door when the clock struck nine. The closing time forced even the young woman who had arrived half an hour earlier and had been incessantly winking at him for the duration — even after he had dashed into the backroom to fetch his rainbow flag pin and very pointedly fastened it to the front of his apron — to leave. She had done so with one final spasm of the eye and Demyx had been tempted to ask if she was quite alright, but that might have encouraged her to start an actual conversation, so he had merely granted her a slight nod of the head before practically sprinting to the door to make sure no new customers would try to barge in with complete disregard to the fact that Demyx did have a life outside of his work.
After the satisfying click that marked the end of the day, Demyx leaned against the door for a few deep breaths, pushing strands of blond hair off his face, more than eager to leave the hectic evening shift behind. Usually the last couple of hours before closing time were blessedly quiet and he had plenty of time to chat with his partner in crime, Axel, before he was left by himself to man the fort for the last sixty minutes. Demyx usually spent that time writing lyrics for new songs or scrolling through social media while serving maybe two customers at most.
Not tonight, though. Tonight had been an endless stream of customers in more and more eccentric outfits as the evening progressed. Curious, Demyx had asked a middle-aged man in a glittering leotard and killer heels — Demyx hoped to be even half as badass as the man one day — if there was a reason why so many people seemingly out of a surrealistic, and very gay fairy tale had taken over the coffee shop where the usual, unexciting cast of customers consisted of university students in jumpers and joggers as well as business professionals in pinstripe suits and pencil skirts. Apparently there was some kind of an artsy event taking place down the road — Demyx wasn’t sure on the details; he had lost interest as soon as it was clear the event had nothing to do with music — and Kingdom Coffee was the only place nearby that sold coffee and was still open. It was good for the business, but bad for Demyx’s nerves. He was the first to admit he wasn’t always the sharpest pencil in the box, but even he had his limits for tolerating stupidity, and those limits had been seriously tested as he tried to explain as patiently as he could that no, he couldn’t give a discount no matter how outrageous the outfit and yes, he was quite positive the green tea was vegan and gluten-free.
With one final huff of air, Demyx pushed himself off the door and went to collect the dishes from the table where the woman with an apparent facial tic had sat. She had scribbled her phone number on the back of the receipt with, yet another, winky face and a name Selphie. Demyx only shook his head as he threw the piece of paper in the rubbish bin and set the dishes in the sink. He would need to wash them by hand because the dishwasher was already running with the last load, but he didn’t mind too much. As tired as he was after an almost sleepless night — he couldn’t sleep when a new idea for a song struck him — and the whirlwind of a shift, there was something incredibly peaceful in the silence that embraced the coffee shop after the door was locked that almost made him forget about the unfinished essays waiting at home. But only almost. Demyx knew he’d better get a move on if he ever wanted to tackle those essays and so it was with a huge yawn that Demyx started the closing ritual of lifting chairs on tables so that he could mop the floors. He hummed the song he had stayed up for while he worked his way towards the adjoining smaller dining area.
When Demyx entered the other room, he heard a quiet sigh and nearly jumped out of his skin to take up residence in the yucca plant next to him. Heart thundering, Demyx steadied the plant he had almost knocked over before turning to look at the source of the sound. In the back corner of the room, there was one final customer sitting at a round table with their head resting on their arms on the table top. Demyx couldn’t tell much about the customer other than that their hair was an unusual colour of greyish blue that Demyx could immediately tell came from the bottle and that they were wearing jeans and a hoodie with a backpack thrown on the chair next to them. Based on their attire, Demyx would guess they were a student.
A student who was very obviously having a rough time if their miserable sighing and slumped posture were anything to go by.
As a student himself, Demyx was intimately acquainted with the all-consuming despair caused by looming deadlines and gruelling exams. However, if this person actually was a student, they were taking study stress much harder than the average human. Demyx was certain the lingering customer hadn’t been among the colourful hurricane that had started two hours before closing time because he would’ve remembered them. They would’ve stuck out like a ray of sunshine in the middle of a storm. That meant they had been sitting there for at least a couple of hours, so wallowed up in whatever was bothering them that they hadn’t even noticed that the place was closing. It also meant that Axel had failed to inform him at the end of his shift that there was a customer in the smaller room that had been under Axel’s responsibility that day. All the customers in the last hour had stayed in the main dining area and so Demyx had simply assumed that the coffee shop was empty once the hopelessly winking woman had left. He would berate Axel when he saw him tomorrow, but right now, he needed to take care of the sad sight in front of him.
Demyx tried clearing his throat from the other side of the room, but when that didn’t rouse any kind of reaction from the customer, he stomped to the occupied table, making sure to cause enough noise for the other person to hear him. As dismayed as he was — he just wanted to go home — about having to deal with a customer after the coffee shop was already closed, the thought of giving the slumped form a cardiac arrest and then having to deal with a dead customer thrilled him even less.
“Hey, are you alright?” Demyx asked, deciding to go with a polite approach. After all, his number one job was to make sure customers felt welcome and had a pleasant stay so that they would visit the coffee shop again or recommend it to their friends. Telling the poor soul to fuck off would probably ensure their writing a scathing review online, and those were really bad for business. Besides, Demyx liked helping people, but he was exhausted and had a mountain of work waiting for him at home. He didn’t have time for entertaining customers who had lost track of the time.
The question interrupted the sigh escaping from the customer. It was replaced by a derisive snort that clearly said what does it look like?
Demyx sighed. This wasn’t going as well as he had hoped. “Look, I’m terribly sorry for whatever that’s got you down, but we closed ten minutes ago.” Then, knowing fully well his boss would have a raging fit if she heard him breach one of the most important rules of customer service, he said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
A surprisingly deep male voice answered him and the dark timbre resonated pleasantly though Demyx’s spine, though he tried to ignore it. “Just let me sit here a little bit longer.”
“But wouldn’t you rather go home? That chair can’t be too comfortable,” Demyx coaxed. He knew that Larxene had deliberately foregone upholstered chairs in order to avoid customers overstaying their welcome in plush seats that would keep their bottoms nice and cosy. Most of the time it worked, but of course there were exceptions like this guy who ended up being a pain in the ass rather than having a pain in the ass from sitting on the harsh surface.
“No. If you knew my roommate, you wouldn’t either.”
The guy really did have a nice, rich voice, and normally Demyx would have asked what was so terrible about the roommate, but right now, he was over-worked, and he shouldn’t have stayed up until the wee hours of the morning perfecting a melody because a lack of sleep made him cranky. But he had, and so he ground out, “You know, I don’t actually care where you’d rather do your pathetic moping at. I just know I’d rather see you do it somewhere else. I would like to go home at some point, and you need to move your sorry ass for that to happen.”
The slumped form in front of him went rigid for a long moment during which Demyx managed to go through around a hundred painful scenarios of Larxene firing him for his deplorable choice of words. Then the guy raised his head to glare at him, and all thoughts of his boss evaporated and were replaced by well hello, Mr Bluest-eyes-(eye?)-I’ve-ever-seen.
Suddenly Demyx was more than happy to let the guy stay, studying be damned.
“Who are you calling pathetic?” the young man grumbled low in his throat, and the sound almost had Demyx blushing but he fought it down. It took him an embarrassingly long time to reply because he was busy staring at the guy whose moody voice did not match his delicate features but went perfectly with the curtain of bluish-grayish — honestly, what was that colour? — hair that covered the right side of his face. Demyx couldn’t decide whether it was a combination forged in heaven or hell. All he knew was that he had a weakness for pretty faces with edgy hair and blue eyes, and voices so smooth you could almost feel their caress on your skin. And here was a guy who somehow managed to embody all of that at once.
Demyx tried to keep his words from trembling as he finally collected himself. “I didn’t say who, but what — your moping.” The guy’s features turned into a furious frown that lost some of its power due to being half-hidden behind the thick fringe. Before he could grunt a response, Demyx continued with a sigh, rubbing his neck, “I’m sorry, I turn into an insensitive jerk when I’m tired. How about I make it up to you with my special hot chocolate? It’s on the house. You could probably use the hydration after sitting here for so long.”
The guy’s expression didn’t soften, but his shoulders relaxed a little bit. Then he nodded and muttered, “Sure.” Demyx counted that as a victory.
“Perfect! Help me lift the rest of the chairs on the tables and then get ready for me to rock your world,” Demyx said with a wink and tried not to think about how he was turning into the young woman who couldn’t take a hint. For all he knew, the guy was straight, but at least he didn’t show signs of discomfort at the gesture. Another small victory. Demyx was on a roll.
They made short work of clearing the floor. Demyx chatted all the while about the hectic day, the bizarre crowd of customers and their foolish questions, never letting an awkward silence settle down in the space between himself and the other guy. For once in his life, Demyx was actually grateful for his inability to shut up. Otherwise he would’ve just gawked at the guy who on top of everything else was also shorter than Demyx, which was perfect because Demyx loved being the big spoon. It was as if someone had looked inside of his brain to see all the things he found attractive in a guy and then created this short human with the face of an angel but the voice of a sinner.
Once all the chairs were lying upside down on the tables, Demyx led the guy to the main dining area and started preparing the promised hot chocolate. He continued babbling about trivial things while he worked his magic behind the counter. The special blend of hot milk, cocoa and different spices and flavours was something Demyx had been perfecting ever since he had started working at Kingdom Coffee three and a half years ago. He would go as far as to say that the hot chocolate made by his masterful hands was the best in the city, and Axel readily agreed whenever they dared to splurge on the rich-flavoured drink behind Larxene’s back. One of these days he might pitch the drink to her in hopes of getting it put on the menu.
Demyx added one more spoonful of caramel on top of the whipped cream before turning with a flourish, hoping his face wasn’t too red after feeling a pair of brilliant blue eyes drilling into his back for the past few minutes. “Ta-da! Here you go, kind sir, a There-is-no-perfect-rhyme-for-chocolate Hot Chocolate made with loving hands by yours truly.”
Blue eyes met green ones with an unimpressed stare before long fingers — of course, of course they were long — wrapped carefully around the mug. Their hands brushed and if he had been in an overly romantic novel, Demyx would have said he felt an electric spark running through his veins at the touch but alas, he was just a tired university kid serving hot chocolate presumably to another tired student and the brush of their fingers was just that, an accidental contact of skin.
“Thank you,” came the response and the hand withdrew as the short guy gazed into the swirl of whipped cream.
Demyx took in a theatrical, shocked gasp. “What? I don’t get even a hint of a smile for my grievous effort?”
There was a roll of the eyes — Demyx assumed it was eyes, unless the guy somehow knew how to roll only one or the mop of hair covering half of his face was hiding the fact that he only had one. “I don’t smile, as a general rule. Besides, you said it was on the house. I owe you nothing.”
Demyx decided then and there it was his life mission to make the guy crack a smile. To hell with getting a degree and recording an album and becoming a renowned musician; making those thin, pink lips curve upwards was far more important and definitely more satisfying.
“How cruel! How cold! Why must you hurt me so?” Demyx pretended to faint onto the counter and he lay there for a few seconds before straightening up as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drink worthy of gods. I’ll start mopping the floors like the lowly mortal I am.” He turned to fetch the cleaning equipment from the backroom, but nearly tripped over when he heard a spoon clinking against ceramic followed by a delightful moan of appreciation. Oh my god. The sound shot straight to Demyx’s lower abdomen and he rushed to the staff toilet to splash his face with cold water in order to calm down.
When he deemed himself ready to face the guy with the sinful voice, Demyx returned to the front of the coffee shop, carrying the necessary equipment. The other man was leaning against the counter with the grace of a prince while slurping on the hot chocolate, and to Demyx’s chagrin — or pleasure, he wasn’t sure — he was making small sounds of approval from time to time.
“Mmm.”
Yeah, Demyx had to put a stop to that if he wanted to get anything done.
“So, what do you think? Is the drink good enough for your refined taste buds?” Demyx asked as he cast the mop into the bucket of water and started cleaning the floor after wringing the excess water out of it.
The guy nodded, but didn’t offer a smile. “It’s delicious.”
“Told you I’d rock your world, didn’t I?”
They existed in a comfortable silence for a moment while Demyx scrubbed on a particularly nasty stain. When it didn’t come off, he moved a table slightly to cover it up. Out of sight, out of mind.
“So, did you flunk an exam or what happened to get you so moody?” Demyx inquired when the blue-haired man — Demyx had settled on the hair being more blue than grey — didn’t seem inclined to start a conversation. He tried not to let himself think it was because the guy found him tragically uninteresting.
“You think I would fail an exam?” The guy sounded offended and when Demyx turned around, he was glaring at Demyx with his nose in the air. In hindsight, the current topic of conversation was probably not the best idea if he wanted to rouse a smile on the beautiful face.
“I don’t know! I just know I do it all the time so I kind of assumed you might be in the same boat.”
The guy scowled at Demyx for a moment before his features softened and he returned his gaze to his half-finished drink with a shake of the head. Demyx sort of wished he hadn’t stopped glaring, if only because he enjoyed having the blue eyes — he went ahead and presumed the guy did, in fact, have a pair of eyes and the right one could see something from behind the thick fringe — on him, even if angry.
Finally, with a defeated sigh, the man muttered so quietly that Demyx almost didn’t hear him, “No, it’s… My… I found my girlfriend cheating on me with my ex.”
A girlfriend. Well, of course, Demyx thought. Who had he been kidding, really? It was ridiculous to think that a gorgeous man who ticked all the boxes on Demyx’s mental list of qualities to look for in a boyfriend would be anything but straight. He had to remind himself once again that he did not, in fact, live in a film where a chance encounter leads to the protagonist finding the love of their life when they least expect it. Demyx had better get more acquainted with reality. It might be a harsh, unforgiving friend but at least it wouldn’t let Demyx’s imagination run off to create fanciful scenarios where he finds someone who is willing to put up with his wacky antics.
There was an unpleasant pause as Demyx tried to bite down the horrible feeling of disappointment before daring to open his mouth. Even then, he wanted to whack himself unconscious with the handle of the mop as soon as the words made themselves known. “Oh… That’s… unfortunate.”
“You could say that.”
Not knowing what to say next, Demyx spewed out whatever words came to his mouth, which was never a good choice when he was upset. “So, what? Are you so bad in bed that she lost all interest in men? Or was she just ‘experimenting’?” Demyx did the air quotes with one hand, the other squeezing the mop with white knuckles. “She must know that’s an atrocious excuse if you’re in a relationship with someone.”
For some reason the guy didn’t punch him. Instead, the blue eyes trained on him and the defined brows scrunched into a confused frown. Then, for a split second, the guy’s facial muscles were tugging his lips into a smile, but the moment was gone so fast that Demyx was certain he had imagined it. Still, the corner of the one visible eye tightened gently and Demyx wondered if instead of smiling, the other guy had learned how to smize.
“No, I think she just liked my ex’s dick better than mine.”
Wait, what?
The realization of the meaning behind what the guy had said hit Demyx so hard he almost choked on his own spit and he had to lean on his trusty mop to keep himself upright as he coughed. He could imagine how painfully unflattering he looked like in that moment, and the relief he felt at the man’s words did little to abate the morbid embarrassment.
Once the coughing fit passed, Demyx croaked out, “So… You’re —“
He was cut off. “Bisexual? Yes. Is that a problem?”
If only the guy knew how much it was not a problem. “Obviously not,” Demyx said weakly, pointing at the rainbow flag pin that was still adorning his apron. “I’m gay myself.”
A slender chin dipped down for a brief nod of acknowledgment, and then their eyes locked for a relaxed staring contest, as if they were seeing each other in a whole new light. There was fluttering hope in Demyx’s stomach once again, but he didn’t let the feeling get overpowering. Just because the guy could like men as well as women didn’t mean he would ever find Demyx attractive. Demyx wasn’t quite ready to let go of his newly-formed friendship with reality.
Eventually, Demyx felt heat creeping up his neck to set his cheeks aflame and so he turned back to his work to hide the blush. After a couple of minutes of weird silence, he cleared his throat and said, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened.”
“Thank you.”
They fell into easy conversation after that, and Demyx was delighted to notice it was now more of a dialogue rather than his monologue. They stayed on safe topics such as school — Demyx had been correct; the short man was, in fact, a university student — and favourite films, but it was nevertheless a nice way to pass the time as the guy finished his hot chocolate and Demyx mopped the floor. Demyx found himself enjoying the other man’s more serious demeanour, although it meant that making him smile was proving to be a much more difficult task than Demyx had anticipated.
Some time later, the blue-haired man gulped down the last of the hot chocolate and set the mug down with a resigned sigh. “Well, I’d better get going before my roommate calls the police. He worries if I stay out late without informing him, and my phone’s battery is dead.” He shouldered his backpack and made his way towards the door.
“Yeah, I know, mums are like that,” Demyx teased, which only earned him an eye roll and no trace of a smile. He had to admit defeat. Thinking no more words would be exchanged, Demyx lifted the bucket now full of dirty water to empty it in the sink in the backroom.
The sinful drawl of his late-night customer halted his steps.
“Hey, Demyx.”
Turning to face the guy who was already halfway through the door, Demyx was momentarily stunned by how arousing his name sounded like coming from the attractive young man. Then he wondered how he knew his name in the first place before he mentally slapped himself. Of course the guy knew his name, it was written in bold black letters on his nametag.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for the hot chocolate,” the man said. Then the miracle that Demyx had been waiting for happened. Like the sun peeping through a heavy curtain of clouds, a gentle smile graced the delicate lips, and the movement brought a sparkle into the stunning eyes that threatened to pull Demyx in. He was certain his heart skipped a few beats and for a moment he felt like maybe he did live in one of those incredibly cliché books or films. Then it passed as the guy disappeared into the late evening, leaving Demyx behind with a massive grin which didn’t fade away as he finished up the rest of his closing shift duties.
It wasn’t until later that night when Demyx was sitting in bed with his laptop, determined to befriend the man of his dreams on Facebook, that he realised he hadn’t asked the guy for his name or phone number. Somehow he had been so swept away in the excitement of meeting the perfect guy that the fact he was missing such an essential detail as a name had went completely unnoticed.
Crushed, Demyx put the laptop away and curled under the covers before turning off the bedside lamp. Unless the mysterious guy showed up at the coffee again and gave Demyx a chance to fix his mistake, he had no way of finding him. Maybe the guy had wanted it to be that way; maybe he had thought Demyx was creepy and wanted nothing more to do with him.
With that happy thought, Demyx shut his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.
It had been exactly two weeks since his encounter with the gorgeous man, and Demyx was taking care of his usual Wednesday closing shift. The evening had been scarce of customers, which suited him just fine. He had had plenty of time to work on a new song, and didn’t feel too guilty about starting to stack the chairs on the tables fifteen minutes before closing time. That way he would be out of the coffee shop more quickly after closing. The quiet of the empty space late in the evening had become suffocating to Demyx after sharing it with the nameless stranger. It only reminded him of the missed chance of asking for the guy’s phone number or any other information that would’ve allowed him to stay in touch. Demyx hated being reminded of his own mistakes.
The tiny bell above the door chimed when there were only five minutes to go until nine o’clock. Demyx was wiping the counter with his back turned to whoever had dared to disturb him so close to his freedom and he used the opportunity to glare at the wall and then let out a huge sigh.
“We’re closing in five minutes. If you’re here for take-away, that’s fine. Otherwise I’d suggest you come back tomorrow unless you want to gulp down your beverage in record time.” Demyx tried to keep his voice friendly to disguise the bluntness of his words, but it sounded strained even to his own ears. No points for splendid customer service for him tonight.
“Actually, I was looking forward to ordering one of your There-is-no-perfect-rhyme-for-chocolate Hot Chocolates and enjoying it at a leisurely pace. Is there any way that could be arranged?”
Demyx swivelled around so quickly he almost cracked his neck.
There, leaning casually on the closed door in a leather jacket that looked sinfully good on his lean frame and the same jeans from two weeks earlier, was the nameless guy whose smooth voice had been haunting Demyx’s dreams on more than one occasion in the short span of time since the last time he had heard it. As much as the guy had been on Demyx’s mind, he had forgotten the sharpness and the delicateness of his features, the exact shade of his unusual hair and just how mesmerizingly blue his eyes were. Demyx was tempted to pinch himself to check he wasn’t dreaming. No one could possibly look that good.
Demyx had to swallow a few times before he stated as nonchalantly as possible, “Perhaps. Depends on who’s asking.”
A knowing smirk spread across the gorgeous face, and Demyx had to tell his heart to calm down from its sudden burst of energy. Now was the most inconvenient time imaginable for having a cardiac arrest. If he didn’t die from his heart malfunctioning, the ensuing humiliation would surely do him in.
“Zexion.”
And just like that, Demyx had a name to connect to the face. The exhilaration pulled his lips into a wide smile, but he didn’t care. Zexion had better get used to it.
“Well, you’re in luck, Zexion. I have an order coming up with your name on it — on one condition.” The blue-haired man — Zexion — cocked an eyebrow and Demyx decided to just go for it. “You have to kiss the cook.”
If possible, Zexion’s smirk only grew wider — hadn’t he said that he didn’t smile? Did smirks not count as smiles? — while his blue eyes twinkled. “That can be arranged. If the hot chocolate meets my high standards, that is.”
With a pleased blush on his cheeks, Demyx skipped behind the counter to prepare the beverage. He hummed excitedly as he worked, thinking that maybe it was possible for real life to imitate art. He certainly felt like he was living in a scene out of a romantic film as he kept glancing over his shoulder to lock eyes with Zexion and share soft smiles. Where the plot would take them next, he didn’t know, but he was eager to find out.